


Satchel on the Ground

by beckalina



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Incest, Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Panties, Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckalina/pseuds/beckalina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The purple and black vee of fabric rises just slightly above the waistband of Joe’s low-slung pants, shiny purple ribbons curving over the older boy’s slim hips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satchel on the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2010, just realized that it had never been posted here. As always, all of my porn is for Rachel!

Nick walks into the kitchen to find Joe bent over in front of the refrigerator, rummaging around for the beer he keeps swearing that Garbo hid in the back. His tissue thin shirt has ridden halfway up his back, his loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. It takes Nick a moment to realize what he’s seeing, and he loses his grip on his satchel once he does. Joe--his brother--is wearing a thong. Nick blinks rapidly but the image doesn’t fade. There’s no mistaking it. The purple and black vee of fabric rises just slightly above the waistband of Joe’s low-slung pants, shiny purple ribbons curving over the older boy’s slim hips.

Nick swallows thickly as Joe straightens back up and the zebra print silk disappears from view. He’s pretty sure that he can still see a faint outline of purple underneath Joe’s sheer pink shirt. Nick pulls his gaze away from his brother’s hips and tries to train his face into a neutral expression. Joe has a beer in each hand and a quizzical look on his face.

“You alright Nick? You look a little pale.”

“Fine,” Nick grabs for one of the bottles and chugs half of it before slamming it down on the counter with a loud belch, “I’m just fine. Go put the movie in.”

Joe looks at Nick like he can tell that he’s lying through his tightly clenched teeth, but he just shakes his head and carries his own untouched beer into the living room. Nick takes a few moments to collect himself before he follows, sitting on the overstuffed couch—as far away from Joe as he can. There’s an ocean of beige microfiber between the two of them, and Nick concentrates on taking tiny sips of his beer. He tries not to watch out of the corner of his eye while Joe stretches forward to snag the remote from the coffee table. There’s a slight indent in the tanned skin of Joe’s hip, where the strap from the thong pressed into his flesh. Nick bites the corner of his thumb, tearing at an invisible hangnail.

Nick gives up on concentrating on the movie before Danny Ocean even makes the call to his parole officer. He loves this movie, he’s seen it a million times—but he honestly could not answer a single question about what’s happening on the screen. Joe has been unconsciously inching toward him, closing the gap between them. It’s not anything out of the ordinary. It was probably more remarkable that Nick sat so far away to begin with. Joe has never actually understood the concept of personal space, especially where Nick is concerned.

“Tired,” Joe yawns awhile later, leaning closer and rubbing his cheek against the younger boy’s shoulder like a cat, “And you make the best pillow.”

Nick bites the inside of each cheek while Joe slides underneath his arm and settles against his side. Nick can feel Joe’s shirt bunching up underneath him and makes the mistake of glancing down. Now that he has a closer view, Nick can see that the purple strap of Joe’s thong is shot through with fine silver thread, glittering in the low light of the television. He breathes deeply and tries to shift away, but Joe makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and burrows deeper into Nick’s loose plaid shirt.The minutes tick by and Nick feels Joe relax against him, the older boy’s steady breaths ghosting across Nick’s chest. Nick’s arm is cramping slightly, and he extends it, flexes his fingers against the small of Joe’s back. He’s not even fully aware of what he’s doing until the pads of his fingers slip across the smooth silk, just above the waist of Joe’s pants. It’s in that moment that Joe snuggles even closer, and Nick’s hand slides just below the waistband. Nick freezes, his fingers stiff against the soft fabric and Joe’s warm skin.

It takes every ounce of restraint Nick has not to jump off of the couch immediately. He doesn’t want to wake up Joe, so he eases himself out from underneath his brother and stands up shakily. He’s so ridiculously hard right now, and no amount of thinking about baseball or sick kittens is making it go away. He doesn’t understand this. He likes thongs, yeah. He’s known that since he dated Miley and she sent him all those pictures, little bits of lace peeking out from underneath her tight jeans. He got off to those pictures—even just the thought of them—for years. This is his brother, though. His admittedly attractive brother, if Nick thinks subjectively. His attractive brother who is wearing a sexy slippery thong like it’s no big deal.

A cold shower, Nick decides, because there is no way in hell he’s going to jack off to thoughts of his brother. He’ll make it go away, he’ll forget this happened, and the next time he hangs out with Joe everything will be fine. He makes his way up the stairs and into Joe’s bathroom, his eye catching and lingering on the bright scrap of fabric sticking out of the top drawer of Joe’s dresser. It’s against his better judgment that Nick moves towards the dresser, a voice in the back of his head screaming at him to take his shower. Nick reaches out and pulls the slick satin out of the drawer, sliding the bright blue fabric over his hand.

He slowly slides the drawer all the way open, takes a deep breath before he looks inside. Amidst the normal boxer briefs in drab, neutral colors are bright scraps of lace, silk, and satin. Joe’s zebra print thong isn’t a fluke, wearing women’s underwear is something that he must do on a regular basis. More than half of Joe’s underwear drawer is full of panties. Nick stumbles back towards the bed, flashes of Joe wearing these frothy bits of fabric and lace racing through his mind.The images in his mind are just too much. Nick thumbs frantically at the button of his fly and has his hand halfway wrapped around his cock before he even notices that he still has the blue satin panties twisted in his fingers. The slick fabric is cool against his skin and he feverishly thinks that he can maybe understand why Joe seems to like it so much. He imagines touching Joe through the smooth fabric, how hard his cock would be underneath the feminine panties.

Nick falls fully onto the bed, his back arching and hips pumping with each stroke. He thinks about Joe’s ass, pictures the soft globes of it peeking out from underneath the vibrant green lace that he saw in the drawer. He wonders what it would feel like, to slide his cock over the slick soft panties covering Joe’s ass, to clench his hands against it.

He’s moved on to thoughts of mouthing his brother’s cock through the silk, sliding his tongue against the length, when his orgasm takes him completely by surprise. A groan slips through his lips and his hips stutter against the mattress. His come soaks through the blue satin in his hand, and he brings it to his face for an experimental lick, imagining that it’s Joe’s come staining the fabric.

Nick catches his breath and gradually comes back to himself. The room comes back into focus and he unclenches his hand, letting the soiled panties fall to the floor. He stands to pick them pack up and crosses the room to shove them into the bottom of Joe’s hamper. With any luck, they’ll get mixed in with the rest of the laundry and Joe will never need to be the wiser.

He steps into the bathroom and wipes himself off with a washcloth, tries not to think about what he just did. Joe is still asleep on the couch, hopefully, and Nick knows that he’ll sleep there all night if Nick doesn’t wake him up and get him to bed. The dresser catches Nick’s attention again and without really thinking, he reaches into the drawer and grabs the first pair his fingers snag on. He slides the bright pink scrap of silk into his pocket and makes his way back downstairs.


End file.
